The Last Fallen Star
by TheLionTree
Summary: Sequel to Birth of Ill Omen, sorta - Duraina Sullivan found herself kidnapped and tortured for ransom. Killing the bandits who imprisoned her she stumbled through the snowy woods and into the lives of the Dark Brotherhood's listner and Cicero. The two men show her the importance of loyalty and a new direction in life, but what if she wants more from both? M for eventual smut


_The writing tubes have been a little clogged so I'm trying to free them up by writing some fanfictions I've been thinking about for awhile. This one is my love triangle. Leave me a comment with what you'd like to see happen, or if you like what you read._

_I'm going to try to update this fairly frequently._

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The chain around her ankle stopped her short of putting more logs on the fire. The last embers would burn down shortly before he'd come and pester her to give up the names of anyone who might pay a ransom for her release. Having no one with that kind of money, she'd emerge from the pelts she slept under and stare. Eventually he'd get upset and leave, vowing tonight would be the last night. Soon he'd make good on his threats and Duraina had no intention of dying easily.

A conversation went on outside about the latest victims the bandits had come across. They'd passed up two people hunting down by the sea and focused on a small group of travelers who didn't have much on them. Emerging half from the furs she'd burrowed under, Duraina tested the air and found it unpleasantly cold. Like an insect she curled back down into the warmth of her covers and hoped Yuif would forget his visit tonight.

Heavy steps on the stairs signaled the Nord had come and she gripped a sliver of wood she'd been sharpening for days. Her weapon came loose from the slats at the back of the shack, which were rotted from the snow piled up against them. This brittle discovery had been covered by well placed furs and Duraina had used the warm hours in her room to whittle it into a point against the window sill. Not much of a plan, but she had little else going for her.

When the door opened, fridged air swept into the room, forcing her to coil into a tight ball. A snort came from the intruder, who busied himself by tossing a log into the hearth before sitting down in a chair near the growing flames. "Look you stupid gash, it's time to come out from under the blankets and tell me what I want to hear."

"Fuck off."

A displeased grunt came from him before he stood up and walked closer. Each boot step rattled the little cabin, giving her warning of the unkind kick that would surely roost her. A maze of welts and bruises gave testament to her ill-treatment at his hands and she comforted herself with the idea of fighting back.

Foul air emitted from his mouth as he stopped at the edge of her sleeping are and gauged where in the pile she slept. Her hatred for him grew into a dull roar that bordered on passion. She imagined how she'd do it, prepared her mind and her body for the lunge and the strike. Like a snake she begged him to expose himself. A reptilian heart called to him to reveal a vein, which when sliced, would trickle his life down through the wood slats and into the dirt. In her heart she said a prayer to the darkness, making endless promises, should violence set her free. As manipulated by these same gods, he reached his foot find her amongst the blankets, exposing a very sensitive part.

Duraina lashed upwards from her pile, sending the animal skins akimbo and driving the shiv into his crotch. An abysmal croak came from Yuif, who fell backwards onto the planks, all of his weight disturbing the room around him. Dog like whimpers came from the large man, who pulled the shard from his groin, dropping it as blood gushed from the wound.

The chain around her ankle clacked as she drug herself from cover and pulled a small knife from his belt, driving it down into his neck and chest repeatedly - finishing what her first blow would have done shortly. With a heavy exhale the Redguard woman leaned against the corpse, enjoying the heat exiting his body and also coming from the fire nearby. He'd left her naked to prevent her from pulling the chain from the rotting boards. As she squeezed his bleeding body between her legs she chuckled at how ridiculous it must look.

Fishing in his pocket for the keys, she listened for any of his friends coming to aide Yuif in his abuse. Most of the robbers slept through her nightly thrashings. Considering her situation she remembered the question he asked her repeatedly. "How did you afford that fine saddle and those weapons?"

"My mother and father were both in the thief's guild back in the Empire. I inherited them."

What his ears heard, his mind never accepted. Each night he'd land blows upon her, thinking her to be the daughter of a wealthy merchant and not an urchin in search of fortune. Every night she'd assure him no one with the last name Sullivan had ever worked an honest day in their life and most had died young because of it. Now their trysts were no more and a powerful need for revenge settled in Duraina's stomach.

Unlocking her cuff, she stood and looked over her victim to determine if his clothes were suitable to wear. Sadly her knife had and his blood had rendered the clothing to drafty to justify taking. Holding the knife tightly, she stood over by the fire and warmed herself thoroughly, using twine from the firewood to tie animal pelts to her feet. The sound of a bandit going to bed caught her attention; a woman singing the same song every night, taunting her with happiness. Glaring at the iron loop that secured the doors, Duraina snarled and formulated a plan.

The bitter snowy night proved colder than she could have imagined, worse in the snow. Slowly she crept naked between the houses, gathering several lengths of rope and hovering by meeting fire in the center of the encampment. Once she'd stiffened herself to the elements, she'd set to running the length of rope through the doors, careful to note that the hinges all swung inwards instead of out.

Once she'd tied the doors so the tension from the rope made them impossible to open, she stoked the center fire. Warmer, she set off towards a clothes in a pile on the edge of the cabins. Shifting through the bloodied clothes of their victims, she found a leather coat which engulfed her body and a pair of britches which fit well enough.

The remaining clothes she threw on the fire, letting the robber's vanquished assist her in this final act of murder. Once the flames were high and her body begin to sweat, she carefully wrapped rope around the top of a stick and dosed it in liquor. Twirling the torches in the fire, she ran to each cottage, setting the roof alight and ignoring the protest of those who awoke to find their doors barred.

With the roof of the final shack burning, she pulled Yuif's knife into the pockets of the giant coat and began to track south towards the sea. Unsure of which direction to head, she told herself some dark God had been pleased by her actions and somehow she'd survive. Leaving the campgrounds the screams of burning people combined with the perfume of burning vengeance thrilled her, giving her assurances she would be protected.

In a thick shadow of midnight she wandered for hours. Frostbite threatening to take her, she reached the shore, the smell of saltwater warning her long before she reached it. A soft powdery snow began to fall as she stumbled out of the bushes and onto a sandy beach. Waves crashed and the smell of a campfire confused her as her eyes focused on a man in red skittering about. Her head swam as she tried to focus on him, ignoring a dark elf standing next to a pile of Horker skins.

"Listen, you are right," the man in red said. "Someone has come to us on this night. Tricky, tricky, that Mother would have her creep out of the woods so stealthy. Look, the blood of her victims has dried on her face."

Trepidation kept her on edge, even though her feet and legs had become so cold they stopped hurting and felt stiff. Unsure of the two strange men's intentions she tried to move away from the party, only to find the man in red dancing around her in mockery. As he laughed and sang, she realized he wore the clothes of a royal jester and wondered if the cold caused hallucinations.

"Oh fine Miss, what is this?" Boldly the jester grabbed the knife from her hand and lifted the blade to his face. Her fingers fought to follow after him but her hand had become numb to the point she could not move her fingers. Clawing upwards, she fought to retrieve her weapon, before losing balance and falling face first in the snow.

"Oh don't worry, good Cicero will give you back your blade. Rest now Sister."

A warm leather fell over her body and hands guided her onto her side, rolling her up in Horker skin. In a final effort to save herself, Duraina attempted to wiggle away, but the effort caused black spots to form in her vision. Once she'd been properly encased in the skin, she noticed the dark elf through heavy eyes and smiled at him. Through thick, white, lashes he smiled back - before tying her into the wrap.

"What are you doing to me?" It sounded as pathetic as she felt.

"The good listen is taking care of his new sister," the jester answered.

"Who names a dark elf Listen?" This brought a chuckle from the elf and maniacal laughter from the man who called himself Cicero. While they chuckled she realized she should be growing warmer with the Horker Skin around her but felt only mild warmth. Saying nothing to alarm or comfort the Drow lifted her up and brought her by the fire. With her head on his knee she stared at the flames and realized she should resist - these two men could be murderers for all she knew.

Thousands of scenarios played out in Duraina's head. Worry built up behind these thoughts and for a moment she thought she would burst, when the Mer reached down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, before wrapping a simple cloth around her head. The gesture felt familiar and comforting, but she still baulked at the danger of being so trusting. "You invite me to rest, but I don't know you. How do I know you won't sell me to a Kat-Kin caravan?"

Exhaling with great pressure she noticed a spicy smell coming from Listen. Clearing his throat, he spoke, his voice coming as a rumble that shook the earth around him. The shaking even stopped the jester from his tumbling about and drove the birds from the trees. A voice like his could not be ignored and the words he spoke etched themselves onto her heart. "You were guided here, Duraina. Please rest."

"Listen, you seem pretty nice for a dark elf."

Her calling him 'Listen' again, sent Cicero into another fit of laughter. He hopped and flit about while he laughed, flashing like a robin in spring. His dance soon started to make sense, as his body faded into a blur and Duraina passed into darkness. From this she seeped into a void into which she'd always yearned to enter. A few times before she'd flitted around it, danced like the jester at the edge of it's maw, only now it seemed to be truly welcoming of her for the first time.


End file.
